Preserving the Past, Predicting the Future
by DJICyber
Summary: Beca was just an ordinary schoolgirl until one day she arrives at Camp Barden. Who knows who or what she would find in her new life? Will include whole Percy Jackson series, until Heroes of Olympus. Rated T for language. AKA the Percy Jackson/Pitch Perfect crossover no one ever asked for. Mitchsen (thanks for the idea :D)
1. Chapter 1

_A/N: Hey everyone! So this is my first fanfiction, and it's gonna be a Pitch Perfect/Percy Jackson crossover. Leave reviews if I should continue!_

 _ **DISCLAIMER: NEITHER PITCH PERFECT NOR PERCY JACKSON BELONGS TO ME, THEY BELONG TO THEIR RESPECTIVE OWNERS. THE ONLY THINGS THAT BELONG TO ME ARE MY OCs AND MY OWN STORYLINE.**_

 _ **Chapter 1: Field Trips and Creepy Philosophy Teachers**_

Look, I didn't choose to be a half-blood.

If you're reading this right now, and you think you might be one, my advice is: close this right now. Try to lead a normal life. Being a half-blood is dangerous and scary. Most of the time, it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways.

My name is Beca Mitchell.

I'm 16 years old. Until a few months ago, I was a boarding student at Marina Academy, a private school for troubled kids in Portland, Maine.

Am I a troubled kid?

Yeah, you could say that.

My short life, in one word, miserable. But things started going really bad last April. Our class took a field trip to the Metropolitan Museum of Art to look at ancient Greek and Roman stuff.

I know - sounds like torture. Most field trips were.

But Mr Evan, our Latin teacher, was leading this trip, so I had hopes.

Mr Evan was this middle-aged guy in a motorized wheelchair. From his looks, scruffy beard, thinning hair and all, you'd think he wasn't cool. But he told stories and jokes, and even let us play games in class. He also had this awesome collection of Roman armour and weapons, so he was teaching the only class that I couldn't fall asleep in.

I hoped that the trip would go okay. At least, for once, I wouldn't get into trouble.

And as usual, I was wrong. Hooray.

You see, bad stuff happens to me while I'm on field trips. This trip, I was pretty determined to be good.

My friend, Stacie, was sitting next to me in the bus. She was quite the stunner. I'd say if it wasn't for my common sense, she'd already get hit on the moment we went into the museum. She was a leggy brunette, and she would use her body to the fullest, wearing short pants and tops that showed off her cleavage. I made her wear something appropriate for the trip.

Beca: 1, Stacie: 0

Mr Evan led the museum tour.

He rode up front, in his wheelchair, guiding us through the hallways of the galleries, past statues and glass cases full of really old pottery.

It kinda blew my mind that this stuff had survived for about two, three thousand years. They still looked pretty intact to me. Apart from the cracks, of course.

That didn't make sense. Never mind.

Anyway, Mr Evan gathered us around a really tall stone column with a big sphinx on the top, and started telling us how it was a grave marker. Or a _stele._ For a girl about 12 years old. He was telling us about the carvings on the sides, and I was trying to listen to what he had to say, because it seemed quite interesting.

Only problem was, everyone else around me was talking. Every time I told them to shut up, Mrs Brown, the other teacher chaperone, just gave me the evil eye. Seriously creepy.

Mrs Brown was this Philosophy teacher from Atlanta who always wore a black leather jacket, even though she was already about 50 years old. She had come to Marina halfway through the year, when our last Philosophy teacher had a nervous breakdown.

Ever since she saw me, she'd figured that I was the devil spawn. She would point her finger at me and say, 'Now, Ms Mitchell,' really sweet. By then, I knew I was going to get after-school detention. For a month.

I finally got really annoyed when some guy from the back started talking about the naked dude on the _stele._ I turned around and said, 'Will you just shut your fucking mouth?'

Everyone was staring at me.

'Oops.' I muttered.

Mr Evan spoke.

'Ms Mitchell,' he said, 'did you have a comment?'

My face was as red as a tomato. I said, 'No, sir.'

Mr Evan just pointed to one of the pictures on the _stele_. 'Perhaps you'd like to tell us what this picture represents?'

I stared at the carving, and quickly recognized it as one I knew.

'That's Kronos eating his kids, right?'

'Yes,' said Mr Evan, obviously not satisfied. 'And he did so because...'

'Um...' I thought for a second. Then it came to me. 'Well, Kronos was the king Titan, and...he didn't trust his kids, the gods, to not overthrow him. So he ate them up. But his wife hid the baby Zeus, and gave Kronos a rock to eat instead. And later, when Zeus grew up, he made Kronos into throwing up all his brothers and sisters, and so there was this big fight between the gods and the Titans, and -' I was abruptly cut off but Mr Evan.

'Yes, the gods won.' he said. He looked at his watch.

'I believe that you all should go for you lunch break now.'

As I was walking towards the canteen, Mrs Brown materialized in front of me.

'Whoa there, Mrs Brown. Don't need to get all fidgety.' I muttered.

She just confronted me and demanded to know why I wasn't attending her classes in the past few weeks.

The truth was, I had been mixing music in my room. I hated Philosophy anyway.

I smirked at her and said, 'I was posing an important philosophical question. If I don't go to class, would it still suck?'

Apparently that wasn't really the right thing to say at the moment.

'Come with me.' she said, and she pulled me out to the museum entrance.

Stacie was beside me at this point. 'Mrs Brown, where are you taking Beca?' She asked, seemingly worried.

'Just outside for a talk.'


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: I hope you guys liked the last chapter, and thanks for all the follow, favorites and reviews for that! Here's chapter 2._

 _ **DISCLAIMER: NEITHER PITCH PERFECT NOR PERCY JACKSON BELONGS TO ME, THEY BELONG TO THEIR RESPECTIVE OWNERS. THE ONLY THINGS THAT BELONG TO ME ARE MY OCs AND MY OWN STORYLINE. ALL MISTAKES ARE MINE.**_

 _ **Chapter 2: Bat Hag vs Ballpoint Pen**_

As Mrs Brown pulled me towards the entrance of the museum, I snuck a look back at Stacie. She looked pretty pale, her eyes darting between my direction and Mr Evan, as if she was trying to get Mr Evan to notice what was happening.

Mr Evan was absorbed in his novel, oblivious to his surroundings.

I felt Mrs Brown's hand release mine. She had apparently taken a turn and went deeper into the museum instead of to the entrance. I glanced back. Stacie was faced towards Mr Evan, trying to get his attention, her back towards me. Not wanting her to worry, I quickly moved to find Mrs Brown.

My wrist was throbbing. Mrs Brown had an iron grip. The feeling didn't leave until I found her in the ancient Greek and Roman gallery.

Then I saw her. It made my blood run cold, the sight sending shivers down my spine.

The weirdest thing was happening to Mrs Brown. Her eyes were glowing, like a fire had been lit in them. Her fingers turned into talons. Her jacket melted into large, leathery wings.

At least it explained why an old hag (no offense Mrs Brown) was wearing a leather jacket like a teenage kid.

Then it hit me.

Mrs Brown wasn't human.

She was a shrivelled hag with bat wings and claws and a mouth full of yellow fangs. She looked as if she was about to slice me into pieces.

Things got even stranger after that.

Mr Evan wheeled his chair into the doorway of the gallery, a pen in his hand.

'Think fast, Beca!' he shouted, tossing the pen through the air.

And that was when Mrs Brown lunged at me, claws outstretched.

I dodged, and felt talons slash the air next to my head, taking some of my hair.

'Dude! Was that necessary?' I muttered.

I snatched the ballpoint pen out of the air. Only thing was, it wasn't a pen anymore. It was a full-sized bronze sword - Mr Evan's sword, which he had once shown us during show and tell.

Yeah, Mr Evan loved joining in on Greek and Roman show and tells. Don't ask me why.

Anyway, back to the topic.

Mrs Brown spun around towards me. My whole body was shaking so bad, I couldn't get a grip on the sword.

Mrs Brown snarled and flew straight aat me.

Terror coursed through my body, which turned into adrenaline. I sidestepped her lunge and slashed the sword as she flew by me.

The metal blade hit her shoulder, passing clean through her body. I expected crimson red blood to start pouring out, but no.

Mrs Brown exploded into yellow powder and vaporized on the spot, leaving nothing but the tang of sulphur and a high-pitched screech that left my head ringing. I felt a chill of evil in the air, as if her eyes were still watching me.

I looked around for Mr Evan. He wasn't there. I was alone.

With a ballpoint pen in my hand.

My whole body was trembling as I struggled to comprehend what had happened.

Where was Mr Evan?

Had I imagined the whole thing?

I ran through the museum, looking for the tour group. I found Stacie standing beside Mr Evan, who was reading his novel, as if nothing had ever happened.

He looked up. He seemed a little distracted.

'Ah, Beca. I see you have my pen. Please remember to bring your own writing utensils in the future, Ms Mitchell.'

I handed the pen over to him. I hand't realized I was still holding it.

I took a breath and asked him, 'Sir, where's Mrs Brown?'

He stared at me blankly. 'Who?'

'The other teacher chaperone. Mrs Brown. The Philosophy teacher.'

He frowned at me, looking mildly concerned.

'Beca, there is no Mrs Brown on this trip. As far as I know, there had never been a Mrs Brown at Marina Academy. Are you feeling all right?'

I was used to the occasional weird experience, but they were usually over quickly. This recent "hallucination" made the entire school year weird for me, as if the campus was playing a trick on me.

I would sometimes spring a Mrs Brown reference on somebody. They would just stare at me like I was a psycho that had just escaped an asylum.

It got so I almost believed them, that Mrs Brown had never existed.

Almost.

Stacie couldn't fool me. When I occasionally mentioned the name Brown to him, she would hesitate for a moment, and then claim that the teacher had never existed. I knew she was lying. Something was going on.

I didn't have much time to think about it during the day, but at night, I would just have visions of Mrs Brown with her talons and leathery wings, and they would wake me up in a cold sweat.

Every time that happened, I almost always fell off my bed.

Near the end of the school year, I started feeling irritated by little things most of the time. My grades slipped from Ds to Fs. I got into fights with other students. I was sent out into the hallway almost every lesson.

Finally, when Mr David, our English teacher, asked me for the (insert large number here for I forgot how many) time why I was too lazy to study for my spelling tests, I snapped. I yelled at him to mind his own business.

The headmaster sent my mom a letter the following week, saying that I would not be invited back to Marina Academy the next year. Which was fine by me, by the way. I could spend more time with my mom that way. Even make some mixes to take my mind from thinking of the Mrs Brown incident.

Latin was the only lesson I would really study for. I was hoping to get a good grade to make Mr Evan happy. I would miss his lessons. And I would miss Stacie too, even though she was sometimes overly annoying and sexual. Her hand motions. Damn.

But I knew I couldn't have the best of both worlds.

The evening before my finals, I got so frustrated that I threw the _Cambridge Guide to Greek Mythology_ across my dorm room. Words had started swimming off the page, circling my head, doing one-eighties as if they were riding skateboards.

I shook my head and paced around the room, trying to figure out a way to remember all the terms for the Latin exam.

I took a deep breath and picked up the book. I'd never asked a teacher for help before. Maybe if I talked to Mr Evan, he might give me a few pointers.

I walked downstairs to the teacher's office. The hallway was quite dark and empty, the only light shining from Mr Evan's window stretching across the floor.

I was about two steps away from turning the door handle, when I heard voices coming from inside the office. Mr Evan asked a question. A voice that was definitely Stacie's said, '...worried about Beca, sir.'

I froze the moment I heard my name. I didn't like eavesdropping because mom told me it was rude when I did it during her fights with my stepdad. Not that I liked him, anyway.

But I dare you to try and not listen if you hear your best friend talking about you with an adult. A teacher, in fact.

I inched a little bit closer.

'...alone for summer,' Stacie was saying. 'I mean, a Kindly One in the school compounds! Now that we know for sure, and they know too -'

'We would only make things worse by rushing him,' said Mr Evan. 'She has to be more mature.'

'We may not have enough time for that. They have already placed a Kindly One at school, for the gods' sakes! Who knows what they might attempt next?!'

Wait, did I hear that correctly? _Gods?_

What was going on?


End file.
